


Another placid day, ripples at the seams

by Marishna



Series: Drips, drops and drabbles - significant moments of insignificantness [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fights, M/M, Nightmares, Nogitsune Trauma, POV Stiles, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Stiles Has Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blood under his hands was always the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another placid day, ripples at the seams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "nightmares" prompt on my hurt/comfort bingo card that I've woefully been neglecting to this point.

The blood under his hands was always the same.

Stiles could feel the slippery slickness of the red against his skin, soaked under his nails and drenching his clothes. He looked down at himself and felt the familiar fear and revulsion, fighting back the urge to vomit.

He looked down and wanted to sob because tonight it was Derek suffering his senseless wrath. Instead a demonic growl came out of his mouth and he could feel his mouth stretch into an evil smirk.

His mind was screaming at him to fight the nogitsune, to rise up and to save Derek. He knew he could do it if only it would let him. But the demon forced him to step deliberately over Derek's prone body, eyes staring up lifelessly, and keep going. To inflict more pain and suffering.

"Stiles."

He looked back at Derek and saw his lips moving slowly, saying his name.

_"Stiles!"_

Stiles sat up in bed with a gasp, heart pounding wildly. He could feel his hair sticking to his scalp and his neck was clammy, t-shirt twisted around so it felt almost like it was choking him.

"You're safe, everything's okay." Stiles looked up, surprised, but let Derek smooth his shirt back into place and run a facecloth over his skin.

"You're here," Stiles said slowly, shaking his head to clear the fog in his brain.

"You can be pissed at me in the morning. Right now let me help you get back to sleep," Derek said softly, tossing the cloth on Stiles' desk and pushing his jeans off. He tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt in a silent question and Stiles nodded. It joined his jeans in a pile on Stiles' floor.

Derek crawled into bed and lifted his arm to allow Stiles to fit himself against his side. Derek wrapped himself around Stiles and held him tightly, falling back into what used to be a far more frequent motion. 

"We still have to talk," Stiles said into Derek's chest, already relaxing despite his words.

"In the morning," Derek promised and within minutes Stiles dropped off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
